


Six Months Later

by sakura24



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:31:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 12,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakura24/pseuds/sakura24





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder.

  
Fixing his unruly hair with both hands, Akihito looks at his image in the mirror one last time and sighs. No matter how flattering, the expensive suit and the silk tie feel are certainly not his style. _Plus they remind me of him..._ Akihito sighs again, as he turns away from his sad reflection and looks for his camera. He double-checks to make sure he’s got all he will need for tonight’s assignment. _Lenses, films, invitation..._ Everything checks. As he exits his apartment, he smiles bitterly as he recalls the days when he would cover receptions under cover. As he walks to his car, his mind drifts to that one reception; the surprise of being identified by Asami; his smirking lips; his piercing eyes... _Stop it!_ As he turns on the engine, Akihito forces himself back to reality.

 

It has been almost six months since his last contact with Asami. As he makes his way through evening traffic, Akihito once again gets distracted by thoughts of the past. After rescuing him from Feilong, the yakuza spent two weeks with him at his luxurious house outside Ozaka. Their reunion was paradise. Endless hours of mind-blowing sex, interrupted only by lazy sleep, delicious food, and soft whispers. He can still see the image of his lover dozing off on the silk sheet, his face calm and peaceful, his seductive body bathed in the golden sunset. _That was happiness..._ As he waits at the street lights, Akihito feels his eyesight blurring. _Why did it end? Why?_ He buries his teeth on his lower lip as the first tear drops trace slowly the curves of his cheeks. Two weeks. And then Asami announced that it was over. No explanations. _“I won’t come for you anymore, Akihito, and I hope you don’t contact me either. I wish you a happy life. Try to stay out of trouble.”_ Tears are now raining down freely the young man’s eyes. _Fuck you, cruel bastard! I told you I love you..._

As he pulls at the parking lot of the French Embassy, Akihito switches off the engine and stares at the void. He has not seen Asami since that bitter night of separation. He tried to call, but he was never able to reach him. He left messages, some angry, some bitter, some coaxing, some even loving. But Asami never called back. Then he heard from his contacts at the police that the yakuza had left Tokyo for Europe; apparently he was working hard to expand his network outside Asia. Of course, no one knew exactly what he was up to. Or when he is coming back. If ever.

 

The pain in Akihito’s chest becomes unbearable. He wants to see him. He loves him and he hates him at the same breath...

 

 _Focus Akihito. Control yourself. You have work to do tonight. He rejected you. He never contacted you. Damn, he’s been avoiding you for six whole months! He’s obviously forgotten about you. You were just a whore. He’s done with you. And *you* are done with him!!!_ Taking a deep breath, the young man steps out of his car, grabs his cameras, and turns around to face the Embassy. His mission tonight is to cover the reception for Ambassador’s 60th birthday. He was already paid a fat check by the newspaper he is working for; the editor stressed time and again how the readers want to see beautiful pictures of celebrities and Akihito is so damn ready to capture them in his viewfinder! _Plus I get to drink free Champaign and keep the expensive suit!_ The young photographer smiles to himself as he briskly walks up the stairs of the beautifully decorated entrance and shows his invitation to the taxedo-clad guard.

 

Two hours, eight film rolls, and four glasses of sparkly Champaign later, Akihito finds himself having a lively discussion with a beautiful model, Jun, about the pros and cons of shooting in a studio. _This is great fun!_ he thinks to himself as he grabs his fifth glass of Champaign from the tray near-by. The guests, _la_ _crème de la crème_ of Japan’s business, politics, and arts, are chatting cheerfully all around the large ballroom. The air is filled with tipsy laughters, soft music, and the heavy smell of cigars. As Jun gets distracted by an old acquaintance, Akihito grabs his camera once again, determined to shoot the four gorgeous actresses who are chatting away—quite appropriately—in front a marble status of Venus. Camera in position, eyes looking for the right moment, fingers ready to press the button.

 

And then his body freezes. His mind goes blank. His whole existence hangs from the pair of golden eyes that are burning his own through the viewfinder. Akihito’s hands are trembling badly. He may drop his precious camera any minute now, but he doesn’t dare to lower it from his eyes. What if the golden eyes disappear, if he does? What if they’re still there? Confusion turns to panic. What to do? He’s losing control! _I must leave. Now!_ Akihito lowers his head, puts his camera back to the bag, and dashes across the ballroom to the exit. Halfway through, he starts doubting what he just saw. Was it really Asami? How could it be? When did he come back to Japan? How come he didn’t notice him before among the guests? _Maybe I’m just drunk. Maybe I imagined it_. The young man comes to a halt just in front of the door and turns around, part of him expecting to dispel an illusion, part of him hoping in shame that he can cast his eyes once again on that perfectly built man that made an ever-aching wound in his heart six months ago. Akihito looks around, scrutinizing every corner, every shadow, every group of drunk guests. Blinks once, twice. Nothing. The tall figure who once held him tightly is nowhere to be found. Akihito closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. Relief or disappointment? He can’t tell. No, he doesn’t want to. His eyes burn with tears. Slowly the blond walks through the exit. Enough for tonight. He had all the photos he needed. He had more Champaign than he should. And he had his heart shaken more than he could handle.

 

The drive home was brief and uneventful. Except for the occasional tears. Akihito walks into his apartment, toes off his shoes—slightly losing his balance—and throws his jacket on a chair. He sheds the rest of his cloths here and there and closes himself up in the bathroom. He turns on the shower, hoping that the hot water will wash away the emotional tide of his heart. Tears come back, this time with violent sobs. Akihito collapses on the floor and his shivering body finds no consolation in the warmth of the shower. _I am nothing to him. And yet I miss him. I want to see him, to caress him, to make love to him. I am the worst!_ Countless tears fall before the young man finally drags himself out of the bathroom and, still dripping, falls exhausted on the bed. As his swollen eyes close and his consciousness fades away, his dreams bring back the warmth of those days in Ozaka.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Viewfinder.

_His gaze wanders on the marble floor, tracing lazily the glittering veins of the stone. Eventually his eyes meet the pale yellow wall, then the large window overlooking Osaka Bay. Through the steamy glass, the sky and the ocean have become one. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and sinks deeper in the hot tub, pressing his cheek against the chest of the man that means everything to him. His body is heavy, his mind is blank. All that exists are those gentle arms around him, the soft breath through his hair, and the steady heartbeat against his ear, strong and determined, like the man himself. Akihito lifts his head to look at the relaxed face of his lover. A pair of golden eyes looks back at him tame, calm, almost surrendered. As Akihito lifts one hand to caress the older man’s cheek, those perfect lips that have hurt him time and again with their cruel smirk, curve into a gentle smile._ You are so beautiful, Asami. _Akihito sighs at the thought. As he lowers his gaze again, he pours his heart out in a soft whisper “I love you.” The older man stays still and silent. But the frantic song of his heart against Akihito’s ear tells the young man all he needs to know._

 

The alarm clock kills the sweet dream in an instant. As he lifts his arm to turn the switch off, Akihito tries to fight off the bitter emptiness in his heart. Suddenly he gasps, sits up, and looks around. _I could swear I smell his cigarettes. Shit. I’m going crazy._ He gets off the bed and heads for his morning shower. _You are a fool, Akihito. A fool._ On his way to the bathroom he bumps into a chair. _Ouch! When did I put this here? Damn._

 

The young photographer makes his way through a sea of cubicles towards the editor’s office. The pictures from yesterday’s reception came off very nicely and, judging by the laudatory email he got from his boss earlier, some of them will probably make it to the front page.Akihito smiles to himself as he knocks on the door. The two men on the other side seem to be in the middle of a heated discussion. As the blond steps in the spacious room, the middle-aged man seated behind the desk grins and gestures hastily. “Ah, there you are! Come in, Takaba-san! You’ve got to see this!” Akihito nods to the editor, then to the young man standing in front of the desk. “Good morning, boss. Kawamura-san.” “Hello, Takaba-san,” responds the tall man with a smile. Kawamura Reiji is the paper’s sports photographer, but he also covers social events whenever there’s more going on than Akihito can cover by himself. _That’s right. He was covering the opening of a new club last night._ As he approaches the desk, he grows more and more curious about the photos on the desk. “Did you have a good time yesterday, Kawamura-san?” he asks his colleague. The tall man sounds excited: “It was interesting, Takaba-san. More so than I ever expected.” The editor takes a photo out of the pile and hands it over to the blond. “Look who’s back in town.”

 

Akihito’s eyes fall on the glossy paper and freeze. A pair of amber gems that blazes with confidence. _Oh Gods._ Sensuous lips tightly holding a cigarette. _Asami._ Perfectly combed black hair. _My love._ Wide shoulders.

   
 _Oh Gods_. _No._ One arm wrapped around the waist of the young man next to him.

   
Akihito gasps for air in vain as the ruthless pain pierces through his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder.

Warnings: Strong language.

As he staggers up the stairs to his apartment, Akihito glances at the midnight sky and inhales deeply the icy cold air. He shivers and Asami’s picture ripples once again his blurry mind. A deep sigh escapes him, then a chuckle. _Wouldn’t it be funny if I had fainted in front of the boss?_ His thoughts race back to the day he is leaving behind: the quick escape from the office, the long aimless walk, the heavy smell of the dark bar. After the pain came bitterness, anger, despair, craving, and then, when all tears were drown in beer, came peace. _This is really the end._ No more illusions. No more secret hopes. _Time to move on._ As the young blond turns the key in the lock, a faint smile shines hesitantly on the tired, pale face.

The door closes, leaving him standing still in the dark space. Muscles tense, heart racing, smile frozen. _It can’t be._ He takes another breath. There’s no mistake. It’s the smell of his cigarettes. Stumbling in the dark, Akihito barges into the kitchen, then the living room. Nothing. With trembling hands he opens the door of the bedroom—and freezes. From the chair next to his bed, two glowing amber orbs are staring directly into his heart, casting their spell through the thin smoke of a cigarette.

“You’re late. Drinking in pathetic bars again, my kawaii Akihito?” The deep voice electrifies the young man. His whole body shivers. His mind is numb, his heart is frantic. _Asami..._

Suddenly, the image of the yakuza holding another man lashes  his wits and rips through his confusion. Akihito feels the knot in his heart tighten with pain and blind rage. His heartbeat pounds on his temples, his cheeks burn, his voice comes out shrieking “Get out!” The words are swallowed by the void of the yakuza’s silence. The young man’s body is now shaking violently “I said GET OUT!”    

Asami’s reply comes cold and sharp, like a blade. “You can’t order me around, Takaba.” He pauses, crushes his cigarette, lights another. “Won’t you ask me why I’m here?” Akihito's chuckle spits out anger “For my ass, of course. Have I ever been anything more than a fuck hole for you?”  He can taste the bitterness on his lips “Let me guess, bastard: you fucked your sex toy unconscious too early in the night? By the way, congratulations. Your new whore is very pretty. And docile. He stands gracefully by your side. He even makes you look younger. Try not to get bored of him too soon!”

The blond bits his lip hard as stronger spasms torture his body and hot tears blur his eyes. Asami stands up, his amber gaze scorching the fragile, trembling body in front of him. “Thank you, I’m glad you approve of Ren.” He takes one step forward, cigarette in hand, voice ice-cold “He’s got a beautiful face, doesn’t he?" Another step. “Well, since you’re interested, let me tell you more about him. Ren is a model.” One more. “His body is well-toned and his ass is tight.” Getting closer. “His tongue is very skilled. Much better than yours, in fact.” He stands in front of the blond, caressing with his gaze the bleeding lip that whispers curses at him. “But the best thing about him is that he never complains when I come hard inside him” Asami bends over the shivering body, cups the wet cheek with his palm and whispers in the flushed ear “and cry out _your_ name, Akihito.”


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder.  
Warning: strong language. a bit angsty.

“SHUT UP!” Slapping the warm hand away from his cheek, Akihito glares at the yakuza with fierce eyes. Stung by the sharp pain of betrayal, the slender body jerks upwards. Standing firmly on his feet, the blond smirks wildly. “Aw, what a sweet confession! Too bad I don’t believe a word. Tell me, Asami, did you _really_ expect me to be seduced with this crap?” A sparkle of surprise flickers in the golden eyes, bringing new tides of bitter irony in Akihito’s lips. “You did, didn’t you? You must think I’m a complete idiot! Well, I’ve got news for you, old man. I’m smarter than you think. And I’m fed up with your pathetic games. You threw me away, disappeared completely to who-knows-where for six months, now you come back with another man in your arms, and you expect me to give you my ass? No way!” Akihito pauses to catch his breath, all tense and ready to dart out of the room. Asami is still standing dangerously close, looking at him intensely. “I wasn’t lying.” The young man watches carefully as the yakuza gets rid of his cigarette, then turns back to face him. There is a certain weariness in the man’s deep voice now. “And believe it or not, I didn’t come here for sex, Akihito. I just wanted to talk."

Moments of torturing silence follow Asami’s words. Akihito scrutinizes the face of the man standing right in front of him, desperate for a crack on his iron mask, a hint to his well-hidden thoughts. _Talk about what, Asami?_ His gaze wanders from the amber eyes up to the soft dark locks, then down to the luscious wet lips. In an instant, he becomes conscious of the man’s scent. Unwillingly, his thoughts surrender to sweet memories of tight embraces and wild orgasms. As desire invades his confusion, Akihito strives to keep his self-control. _What am I thinking? It’s over. Because *he* ended it._ He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Just get out, Asami. You ended whatever it was that we had, and moved on. Let me move on too.”

In fractions of a second, Asami darts towards the younger man and traps him in a firm embrace. Spitting out curses, Akihito tries hard to escape, but the strong arms surrounding his body make any movement impossible. Pressed tightly against the muscular body he knows so well, he can hear his heart racing wildly with an odd mixture of paralyzing fear and intoxicating remembrance. Eventually the young man loses himself in the warmth he has missed so much. As he stands still against the chest of his former lover, he can feel Asami’s hot breath through his hair. New tears burn his eyes and a sob escapes his lips. “I hate you” he whispers softly against the older man’s heart. The possessive embrace tightens in response. Time freezes in the dark room.

An eternity later, Asami releases the young man. Without a word, he turns around, grabs his coat from the chair, and exits the room. When the yakuza slams the front door, Akihito collapses on the bedroom floor, confused and overwhelmed.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Viewfinder  
  


The pale light of winter dawn colors the spacious office with shades of sickly yellow. The rays creep deeper and deeper into the room. They soon reach the dark luster of the desk, crawl through the scattered papers, peek playfully through the empty bottle of whiskey, and finally find the large body slumbering on the leather armchair. As light caresses his cheeks, Asami opens his eyes to gaze at the window. Watching the sun dawn through Tokyo’s skyscrapers has always given him a good energy boost. But this morning, all he can feel is emptiness and exhaustion. _Maybe I’m just getting old._ He stretches and lets out a tired chuckle. _Hiding from the truth again, Ryuuichi? What a weakling you’ve become._ He takes a deep breathe and rubs his eyes for a few seconds; then he stands up, feels his aching back with his fingers, and heads to the bathroom. The countless details of today’s busy schedule will have to wait until after he takes a hot shower.

   
Four boring meetings later, Asami feels like bringing down the walls of the conference room with a scream.He curses silently at the schedule chart in front of him: one hour for lunch break, then more meetings until 6, then a reception at the Ministry of Defense at 7.30. He turns to the tall, blond bodyguard standing close. “Akira, I’ll be back in Sion in an hour. You should take the hour off as well.” The huge man waits until Asami puts on his coat, then takes a hesitant step ahead. “Actually, Asami-sama... Would you mind if I join you for lunch, sir? There is something...personal I would like to discuss with you.” The unusual request fires up the yakuza’s curiosity. “Certainly, Akira. I hope you like sushi.”

   
* * * * * * * * * * * * *

As the heavy door of the office closes behind him, Asami stands for a few moments in the empty darkness cherishing the peaceful silence. Then he reaches for the light switch on the wall to his right, sighing in relief that the series of meetings is finally over. He heads to the mini bar, opens a new bottle of whiskey and pours a generous portion in a glass. Rubbing his neck with one hand, he reaches the desk and sinks in the leather armchair. Thoughts of Akira come immediately to occupy his mind. _So the bastard is getting married._ Asami smirks in amusement as he imagines the stiff man being forced to dance at his wedding party. _That woman will have her hands full._ The yakuza takes another sip of the amber liquid. When Akira gave him a report of his personal plans, he was shocked to hear that his employee still intended to keep his current position. _“You know better than anyone, Akira, that being my personal bodyguard puts you in a very precarious position. Will you still be able to forget about your family and protect me with your life? How does your wife feel about the prospect of becoming a widow at any given moment? Is she aware of the dangers she runs by being married to someone so close to Asami Ryuuichi? Are you willing to let her take the risk?”_ Asami grinds his teeth as he recalls the conversation in his mind’s eye. He almost lost his self-control at that moment, pouring forth one question after another with such agony that made poor Akira jerk in surprise. _“If you still trust me, Asami-sama, I won’t leave your side.”_ The response came with a calm and sober voice. _“I know the risks. So does Keiko-chan. We had a long, sincere discussion about my job after I proposed. I asked her to take her time to decide if she is willing to shoulder the entire burden with me.”_ Akira’s angelic smile left the yakuza thunderstruck. _“Turns out my Keiko is a very brave woman, boss.”_

   
 _You are both brave, Akira._ Sadness sinks Asami deeper into the armchair. _I envy you._ He lets the scotch burn his throat, then reaches for his cigarettes. He closes his eyes, inhales the smoke deeply, and then lets it out with a soft sigh. _Akihito.._. Memories of last night’s encounter take over him as a tide. _“I hate you”_ The words of his former lover bite Asami like a deadly snake. _No, you don’t. You can’t..._ Asami becomes restless in his armchair. As he surveys his desk for an ashtray, he strives to calm the heart that races frantically in his chest. _You are so weak, Ryuuichi. You decide to leave Japan for a whole year, yet you buy a one-way ticket back after six months. You resolve to keep away from him, but you leave your own party just for one stealthy glimpse. You spend a whole night by his bed, still you seek another encounter in less than 24 hours—and, when you see him, you act like a mad man._ The yakuza chuckles bitterly at himself. _Even now, you secretly wish he will be covering the reception._ He crushes his cigarette, closes his eyes, and lets out a deep sigh. _Maybe I should just admit defeat. Maybe it’s time we had a long, sincere chat of our own, Akihito._ A soft knock on the other side of the door brings the man back to reality. He looks at his watch: 7.20pm. “I’ll be right there, Akira.” The yakuza stands up, puts on his iron mask, and heads to the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder.     
  


As the black limo pulls over in front of the imposing building of the Ministry, Asami brings his phone discussion to an abrupt end and turns around. His cold golden eyes meet the bored azure gaze of the man sitting next to him. “Ready, Ren?” The beauty puts on his charming smile. “Always, Asami-sama.” Without further words, the two men step out of the car and walk briskly towards the heavily guarded entrance of the building. The wind is cold, yet Asami can feel the warmth of anticipation spreading on his cheeks. When they finally step into the grand reception hall of the first floor, the party is already loud and lively. Keeping his eyes fixed on the crowd,  Asami wraps one arm around Ren's slender waste and takes a few steps forward. Working his way through pointless handshakes, obligatory greetings, and empty chats, Asami scans the large room for those defiant eyes that haunt his dreams every night. “He’s not here, is he?” Ren whispers in his ear. Asami turns to look at the man’s seductive expression. “Don’t look so disappointed, honey. I’m here for you.” Long fingers run through thick black hair as lips lock on lips.

**********

The small body on the bed jerks at the sound of the phone ringing. A couple of curses escape the young photographer’s lips as he reaches for the light switch. _Damn! I had FINALLY fallen asleep!_ He rushes out of the bedroom and grabs his mobile from the coffee table. “Hello?” The voice on the other end sounds stressed and exhausted. “Hello, Takaba-san. This is Kawamura. Sorry to disturb you on your day off.” Akihito yawns. “What’s wrong, Kawamura-san? Aren’t you covering an event today?” The response comes with a hint of despair. “That’s what I’m calling you about. I should’ve been at the Ministry of Defense about an hour ago, but I had a car accident on my way there. I’m at the hospital.” The voice pauses to let Akihito absorb the facts “Are you alright?” The other man sighs “I broke my right arm, Takaba-san. Even if I headed to the Ministry now, I wouldn’t be able to shoot anyway.” Akihito looks at his watch and heads quickly to the bathroom. “No worries, Kawamura-san. I’ll take over. Just make sure the guards will let me pass. And take good care of yourself.” At the other end, the man is clearly relieved. “Thank you very much, Takaba-san. I owe you.”

Phone tossed aside, Akihito hurries to get ready. Although his day-off has come to an unexpected end, he is rather relieved to be forced into action. Asami’s visit last night left him drained and depressed. He spent the night obsessing about the yakuza’s cruel words and erratic behavior, cursing and crying and worrying, all at once. The thought of Asami making love to that model hurt like a nail in his heart; the sound of that sexy voice calling his name sent him to heaven; the sudden retreat left him puzzled. By dawn the young man resolved that he would never understand his former lover. He took the day off and made elaborate plans to celebrate his decision to put Asami behind once and for all. Somehow, however, he never made it out of his apartment. He just lay on his bed staring at the ceiling with empty eyes for hours, occasionally touching himself at the thought of the yakuza’s tight embrace... _Geez, ties are such a hassle!_ The reflection on the mirror betrays the young man’s exhaustion. _Shit! My eyes are still red and swollen. Damn you, Asami!_ A sudden thought sends shivers down his spine: _What if he’s there?_ Akihito stays still for a second, then stares hard into his own reflection. _He doesn’t own me. He doesn’t control me. He means nothing to me. I will face him and move on._ Lips pressed tight with determination, Akihito grabs his camera with one hand and heads off.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Viewfinder

  
From the vestibule Akihito can hear a tide of lively chats and loud laughters, certain signs that the party has been going on for a while. The young photographer prepares his camera diligently, straightens his suit, and slips into the crowded hall. The air smells like champagne and expensive perfume. Feeling his heartbeat pick up speed with excitement, the young photographer starts surveying the room for famous faces and flattering angles. He spots a dozen of Japan’s most powerful politicians, quite a few diplomats, some of Tokyo’s most successful businessmen, and several military officers. The slight yet evident inebriation of this elite crowd makes Akihito smile like a naughty little boy. _I wonder what they’ll think when they see their drunk faces on the front page tomorrow._ Bringing the camera in front of his eyes, the young man starts shooting and soon loses himself in his quest for the best angle, the right light, the perfect expression.

Little by little, his viewfinder greets the guests and captures their joy. Having already filled three films with faces of the significant and the famous, Akihito turns his camera towards the darker part of the hall on his left. Not enough light. He makes the necessary adjustments to meet the challenge, smiles to himself for this mini triumph, then raises his camera to his eyes again. But his fingers freeze before they press the button. It’s him.

Akihito can hear his heartbeat pound against his temples as he observes dumbstruck the beauty of the man captured by his viewfinder. Tall and slender, his body speaks of seduction. Long hair shining like silk. Sensuous lips curved with charm. And a pair of gleaming sapphire gems. _It’s the man in the picture. Asami’s new..._ Jealousy and fear strike the young man with one blow. _Does this mean he’s here too?_ Freed from the narrow focus of the camera, Akihito’s eyes now race through the room once again searching desperately, but Asami’s imposing figure is nowhere to be found. _Maybe that man came alone._ Akihito can taste the bitter mix of disappointment and relief on his tongue. _Maybe they broke up_. The young man hates himself for that thought. _Why would Asami leave him? He’s gorgeous._ As hot tears threaten to run down his flushed cheeks, Akihito lowers his head and slowly puts the cap on the lens. _I’ve got all the pictures I need. Time to go home._ The thought of curling up in his soft bed sends a wave of calming warmth through his body.

The feel of a hand pressing against his back suddenly shreds Takaba’s newly-found peace into pieces. His startled body jerks and his heart leaps in a crazy dance.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder.  
  


  
“Takaba-san?” A soft female voice caresses Akihito’s agonizing mind. When the photographer turns around, he catches two beautiful blue eyes flickering playfully at him behind long, blond locks. He immediately recognizes the model he met just a couple of nights ago at the French Embassy. “Koyama-chan!” The young woman unravels a gorgeous, pearly smile. “Good to see you again, Takaba-san. Sorry if I scared you. Are you on duty tonight as well? Am I interrupting your work?” As the adrenaline rush fades away, Akihito finds himself pleasantly gripped by the soothing aura of the person standing in front of him. “No, not at all. I am done for tonight.” He smiles warmly as he recalls their long, giggly chat the other night. “Good to see you, too.”

Half an hour later, Akihito is still standing next to the gleaming blue-eyed goddess, laughing from the bottom of his heart like a small child. His heart feels light, as if dark sorrow never touched it. _Koyama-chan is so much fun!_ Gazing fondly at the giggling beauty, he spots the sudden blush on her perfect cheeks. “Takaba-san, I’m really enjoying this! We should hang out more.” The photographer blinks at the unexpected invitation, then lowers his eyes and nods. The model smiles at the sight of his embarrassment. “I am leaving for France tomorrow, but perhaps we can go for a drink when I come back?” Akihito nods again. “Are you going for a photo shoot?” “Yes. Actually, I am really nervous about it. I will be working with Ono-sensei.” “Really?” Akihito’s eyes rise to look directly into hers, blazing with excitement. “Ye- yes.” “Lucky! Ono-sensei is the best photographer in Japan! I LOVE his work!” The young woman jerks in surprise as the young photographer grabs her hands. “You need to tell me everything about him when you get back!” The awkward moment is soon drowned in a soft giggle. “I certainly will, Takaba-san!” She pauses for a second to admire the shining excitement of the young man. “But if you want to know more about Ono-sensei, there is someone here you should talk to.” As the pair of blue eyes start searching the room, Akihito’s heart races with anticipation. “Ah, there he is!” She points towards the grand marble stairs leading to the upper level of the hall. “You see the man with the long black hair over there? That’s Fujimoto Ren. He has worked a lot with Ono-sensei! Come, I’ll introduce you.”

Following eagerly the traces, Akihito’s eyes hunt down the man. And then freeze. Silky hair. Azure eyes. Tall, sexy body. And next to him... “Wow! I wonder who that gorgeous man standing by Fujimoto-san is. Must be his new lover. He’s HOT!” Koyama’s carefree comment burns Akihito like hot iron. Squeezed by the crowd, he stands helpless, still and silent. His heart sinks back into darkness. _Asami..._ The young man observes his former lover from a distance, like an invisible ghost, an insignificant bystander. He watches as the man chats lively with his handsome partner, his lips curving into that alluring smirk, his amber gaze blazing with intensity, his fingers running seductively through his raven locks. _No! Don’t look at him like that, bastard! Look at ME. Only me!_

“Takaba-san, are you alright?” A slight nudge on his right side reminds Akihito of his surroundings. “I... I don’t feel very well, Koyama-chan. I must leave. Sorry.” Unable to hold back the scorching tears, Akihito lowers his head, turns around, and heads quickly to the exit. While he pushes his way through the happy crowd of drunken guests, he surrenders to the violent sobs that threaten to tear his body into pieces. His heart aches with jealousy and helplessness. Wild thoughts of the two men together suffocate him. He gasps for air as he finally exits the building. _Damn you, Asami! I love you. I still love you._ Pouring out his pain with loud sobs, the young man walks through the ice-cold air to his car.

As he searches his pockets for his keys, he feels an arm grabbing his waist violently. At once, a wet towel is pressed strongly against his face. Gasping in terror, Akihito tries to fight back. A few agonizing seconds later, he collapses unconscious in the hands of his captor.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Virefinder  
Warning: Strong language. Violence.   
  


As raindrops fall on the window mercilessly, the distant lights of Tokyo’s midnight frenzy shine blurred into the dark room. A thin trail of smoke escapes from tight lips with a snort as the small body on the bed moves slightly. “Time to rise and shine, princess.” A timid, confused voice responds from the threshold of consciousness. “A- Asami?”

The large figure rises from his chair, crushes a cigarette, and rushes to the bed. When light suddenly floods the room, the young man blinks uncomfortably. His limbs are still numb and his mind is clouded. He wants to rub his eyes, but his hands are bound on the bed head. As he regains vision, he focuses on the two golden orbs looming above him, burning with menacing wrath. “So, you’re trying to get a girlfriend, Takaba?” Confusion is written all over the young man’s face. “Wha- What?” he whispers as he frantically tries to gather his scattered thoughts. “Shut up, you shameless slut!” Underneath its cold surface, the voice is seething with intense emotion. “I saw you flirting with that woman at the reception!”

_Koyama-chan..._ Reality hits Akihito like an electric shock. _It’s not like that._ Before he can explain the misunderstanding to the irate man, the image of Asami chatting with Ren stings his heart with indignation.

“What are you talking about, bastard? You’ve got no right to-”  
“Yes, I do, Takaba.” Asami draws even closer. “You’re MINE.”

A flood of adrenaline fuels Akihito’s anger into an explosion.  
“No, I’m NOT. Because YOU threw me away like garbage, Asami. And then ignored me. Completely. For _months_. Remember? And now you’re fucking someone else. I mean nothing to you. So what if I _do_ get a girlfriend?”

Asami grabs forcefully the young man by the neck. With the demented glare of a hunting predator, he watches as his former lover chokes and gasps for his life. “You belong to me, Takaba. I will kill anyone who touches you.” The grip tightens. “And then I will kill you.”

Through a veil of terror, Akihito fixes his eyes on the monster that threatens his life. Even at this moment, he finds himself captivated by this wild beauty blazing with raw, violent emotion. _Asami..._ The young man closes his eyes, surrendering to the grip that holds his fate. A few agonizing heartbeats later, the strong fingers loosen up, melting into a tender caress. When Akihito opens his eyes, he sees the beast caged by reason and the golden gems shadowed by remorse.

“I didn’t throw you away.” Asami’s voice echoes calm, careful, calculated. Akihito’s silence cries out doubt and pain.

“After the incident in Hong Kong, the word was out about you. This meant a great strategic handicap for me. And a great danger for you, Akihito.”

Akihito can’t resist the bitter irony welling up in his mouth. “Aw, sorry for the misunderstanding, Asami. You should have explained to your respectable colleagues that I meant nothing to you. Or you should have killed me. It would have saved you the handicap.” The man’s sarcasm rekindles the sparks of anger in the yakuza’s eyes. “Oh, but of course it was all for me, right? You broke my heart, tossed me aside, and got a new lover, just to keep me safe... How valiant of you, Asami. What a sacrifice! Thanks.” Akihito pauses to catch his breath.

“So why the hell am I here right now?”

Taking a deep breath, Asami struggles to stay composed. Looking deeply into those honest, proud eyes that he loves so much, he measures the emotions behind the biting words: the anger, the sorrow, the longing.

“I told you last night. I want to talk.” Moments of silence. “And there is no new lover.”

Akihito’s jealousy lets out a scream. “You are lying, bastard!”  
“No. I am not.”  
“Yes, you are. You were chatting like love birds at the party. I _saw_ you!”  
“You saw what I wanted everyone to see.” The yakuza watches the fragile body tremble with rage. “It’s all an act, Akihito. Ren is paid a big, fat check to pose as my lover in public. That’s all. No sex involved.”  
The blond blinks in disbelief. “But yesterday you said he...”  
Smirking at the sight of the young man’s confusion, Asami caresses softly the pale face with his palm.  
“Forget what I said. I just wanted to see your adorable jealous face, my kawaii Akihito. The one that tells me you are still mine.” A torrent of protestations and curses is muffled by a hot, deep kiss. The long-missed sensation of Asami’s lips takes over Akihito’s existence in an instant. A warm blush spreads on his cheeks. His mind goes blank, his heart races, his whole body is aroused. When the kiss comes to an end, he finds himself hopelessly surrendered. Looking away from the man he wants more than anything, he sighs a whisper “You are the worst...”

“Yes, I am.” The softness of Asami’s voice makes Akihito’s body shiver with desire. “That’s why we need to talk.” His warm palm caresses once again the young man’s puzzled expression, forcing gently their eyes to meet. “I am a yakuza. I do dirty business and I have merciless enemies. For years, I’ve been building my defenses carefully because I know that, the moment I slip, they will destroy me and all that’s mine.” The man pauses for a deep breath. “We were lucky with Feilong. Others would murder you on the spot, just to provoke me. I can’t stand that thought, Akihito. It kills me.” Another pause. “And I can’t keep you in a cage. Not for ever, at least.”

He lets his words sink in the young man’s mind for a few moments. “I tried to solve the problem by myself. I thought I had the strength to sever all ties with you.” A painful smirk crawls on the man’s face. “I failed. Miserably.” He wipes off the hot tears that escape his lover’s eyes. “So here is the deal: I want you by my side. But you must let me protect you. You need to be careful. You will live with me and you will listen to me.” Light sobs escape the drenched, fragile face. “Think about it, Akihito. Think about the risks. Take some time to decide. I want this to be your choice. And if you decide you can’t do this, then-” the muscles on the yakuza’s face grow tense “then I will set you free and probably leave Tokyo for good.” His lips curve again “I will still hunt down your lovers, though.”

Akihito listens silently, torn between sweet relief and painful doubt. As two large palms brush away his tears, his heart skips a beat. “Is this another game, Asami?” Two sad golden orbs shoot an arrow straight into his soul, then hot lips attack his own in another long, passionate kiss. Starved for so long, the young man devours his former lover, savoring eagerly his bittersweet taste.

When the tongues finally settle their playful battle, the yakuza reaches above Akihito’s head and releases his hands. “When you have made your decision, you know where to find me.” Still trapped in the daze of the kiss, the young man watches Asami as he slowly leaves the bed and collects his coat from the chair. “Your car is parked in the hotel’s garage, Akihito. But you can stay here for the whole night, if you want.” “Wa- Wait.” the voice echoes soft against the raindrops, timid and puzzled “Where are you going? Why are you leaving like this again?” Turning to the door, Asami struggles to hide his emotions behind a cold smirk. “Don’t tell me you’d rather be raped.”

_Raped_? “No.” _How can you still talk like that?_ “I don’t wanna get raped.” He hears the front door open “So come back and make love to me, bastard!” The door closes.


	10. Chapter 10

Warning: The original plan was to bring those two together in Part 10. But I changed my mind. So here is to more and more Angst!  
Disclaimer: I don't own Viewfinder.  
  


The light pink walls of the corridor echo the strides of the tall man, slow and unusually hesitant. One palm wipes away the sweat from his temples, the other curled in a fist hides in his pocket. His feet lead him to the elevator but his mind is stuck on what he left behind: the soft lips, the warm breath, the sweet voice inviting him to take over the small body he worships so dearly... As he steps into the elevator, he turns around to face the door he closed with his own hands. _What if he chooses to leave me?_ The thought suffocates him. For the first time in a long time, his eyes burn with a tide of painful tears. The ride downwards is nauseating, the small chamber feels like a cage that threatens his very existence. _What if this was our last kiss?_ His fist hits the STOP button, almost smashing it under the vehemence of his impulse. _Shit._ The first tear trickles down the shapely cheek, his teeth dig bleeding streaks across his lips. _I’m completely beaten, Akihito…_ The man takes a deep breath, then another, striving for self-control. _He will come back to me. He will choose me. He IS mine, dammit!_ Bitter doubts bring memories of the countless times he took Akihito by force, the times he refused to acknowledge him, to let him see his true feelings. _He should still be in the room..._ Fingers on the panel, mind on the razor.

   
He wipes away the tears with a deep sigh as he releases the elevator from its halt. _Hurry up and decide, Akihito. You’re killing me._ As the elevator doors open the way to the underground garage, Asami puts on his iron face as best as he can, relieved that the darkness of the place won't allow the cracks to show.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own Viewfinder  
Warning: S(M)EX

 

__Hot flesh drenched in sweat covers his entire being, pressing hard upon his chest, invading his inmost body, moving inside him in a frantic dance beyond control. Two large hands have trapped his legs in their firm grip, and wild lips ravage his own in ferocious kisses. With his eyes closed, he drowns in the utmost pleasure of being devoured by the beast that holds his heart. “Ah! Asami! Oh!” He hears his lover’s aroused growl as he pushes his burning cock deeper, penetrating him harder and faster. “Ah! More! Yes! I’m coming! A- ASAMI!”_ _

Akihito snaps his eyes open as wild spasms take over his slender body, hot semen springing free from his erect cock onto his underwear. Spent and dazed by the lonely orgasm of his wet dream, he lays still on the bed staring at the ceiling. _Damn. It felt so real..._ His gaze wanders lazily, observing the dull decor of the hotel room, barely visible in the darkness of the night. _How long have I been sleeping?_ He looks at his watch and frowns. Raindrops still tap on the window, but their vehemence is gone. _I wish he had stayed._.. His thoughts lead him back to his earlier encounter with the yakuza. _He’s acting strange. In the old days, he would have just taken me on the spot._ The young man sits up, softly swearing at the sight of his stained pants. _He’s telling me that he’s changed, isn’t he? That his proposal is for real..._ The thought of living with Asami spreads a warm blush all over the young man’s soft cheeks and stirs his cock anew with desire. Sweet memories of the heavenly fortnight in Osaka draw a wide smile on the gorgeous face. _Gods, I love him._ He chuckles. _He’s a terrible man. But I love him._ Akihito gets up and stretches his body, enjoying a long yawn. One hand scratches his head, the other one reaches for his coat. _I guess I should just tell him that._ As he walks to the door, uninvited fantasies of their reunion arouse his mind and stir up his senses. Deep sigh. _I’ve missed you, bastard..._


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own Viewfinder.  
Warning: some angst. A bit of a strong language (nothing terrible, though)  
  


A quick glance at the clock ticking ruthlessly by his bed makes Akihito blink in surprise. _How can it be 8 am already?_ He rubs the towel once more against his dripping locks, then tosses it aside and starts dressing. Between slipping into his sweater and zipping his pants, he drinks the last drops of the coffee that has been sitting in his large Doraemon mug ever since he got back from the hotel. Rushing into his tiny dark room, he grabs the fruit of the night’s toil. _Heh! I bet the boss is gonna love those happy drunk faces!_ Evening events always mean late nights in the dark room and a headache of exhaustion the next day, but this morning Takaba feels unusually energetic. Humming a silly pop song to himself, the young man rushes out of his apartment and walks briskly towards his car. _OK, let’s see. First I must drop the photos at the office_. He opens the car door and slips into the driver’s seat, placing his camera bag carefully beside him. _Then, I’ve got to cover Mogami-chan’s interview with that fashion designer at 10—what’s his name again?_ Takaba strives in vain to remember the man’s name while turning on the engine. _Never mind, I’ll find out soon._ He drives slowly out of the parking lot and takes a left. _I should be done by lunch time._ Another left, then stops at a red light. _And then…_ As the light turns green, his foot presses firmly on the accelerator… _I will pay you a visit, my dear yakuza._ When he turns his gaze to the rear-view mirror by habit, the blond notices the wide grin that has unconsciously crept up onto his face. _Geez, I’m getting so worked up...Damn you, Asami! I should make you wait, you spoiled, cruel…sexy bastard!_ Akihito chuckles and turns on Yasukuni Dori Avenue. _But I can’t._

*** 

_WOW!_ As he enters the Shangan Hotel’s Golden Ballroom, Akihito gapes in awe at the sight of the runaway platform dominating the large hall under the dazzling light of the golden chandelier. Every surface of the platform is covered with flawless purple velvet featuring patterns of golden dragons and cranes. A dozen loud workers are setting up the chairs for tonight’s fashion show, all made of golden, shiny fabric that contrasts lavishly with the rich black carpet. “This way, Takaba-san. Hurry up!” Mogami-chan’s urgent voice snaps the young photographer out of his daze. He follows the short brunette into the adjacent hall, an equally spacious but rather messy room, loud with commotion and crammed with mirrors, plastic chairs, and large hangers bearing cloths in large transparent bags. “Mijaki-sensei!” Rushing through the crowded room, the journalist waives her hand at a tall, middle aged man who is checking out a bunch of leather coats laid out on a couch at the back of the room. “Good morning, Mijaki-sensei. I am Mogami Miho from Tokyo Daily.” She wipes the drops of sweat from her forehead, then bows politely to the man. “Thank you for accepting to give this interview, sensei.” The bald designer smiles politely at the short woman, throwing one quick, evaluating glance at her light blue suit. Then he fixes his hazel gaze firmly on the slender man standing behind her. “Oh, and this is my partner, Takaba Akihito. He will take some pictures while we talk—if you don’t mind, of course.” The man’s seductive smile brings an uncomfortable blush on the young photographer’s cheeks. “Not at all. Let’s get started, then.”

 

After three quarters of an hour and a dozen shots of Mijaki, Takaba sits on a chair in silent boredom, watching the lively discussion about this year’s fashion trends that takes places right in front of him. Every now and then, he feels the designer’s lustful gaze on his skin, but he purposefully avoids meeting his eyes. _I wonder how much longer this interview will take._ He lets out a sigh, when he thinks of the plans he has for later. _Come ON, you two! Who cares how long skirts should be, anyway…_ Finally, the long awaited words come out of Mogami’s thin lips: “Well, sensei, thank you for your time.” Utterly relieved, Takaba practically springs out of his chair and starts packing his camera. “It was a great pleasure to meet y—KYAAAAAAAA!!!!” The blonde photographer jumps in shock at Mogami’s cry. Puzzled by the look of fangirl adoration on her face, he follows her gaze to find out what caused the shocking reaction. His eyes fall on the tall man in a white sweater and torn jeans, standing just a few feet away. Behind long locks of shiny hair, two azure gems gleam on the perfect, slender face, shooting their arrows straight into Akihito’s eyes. The blond feels his knees go weak and his heart skip a beat. “Fujimoto-san!” The warped desire in Mogami’s piercing voice makes Takaba want to vomit. _Shit! Why is he here?_ The designer chuckles at Mogami’s reaction, then walks over to the model, who is now blessing the short journalist with his best smile. “Hello, Ren-san. I hope you liked the looks of the runaway.” The younger man nods politely. “Let me introduce you to Mogami-chan. She just interviewed me for the Tokyo Daily.” Fujimoto extends his hand to his semi-unconscious fan. “And this is Takaba-san, her partner.” Striving to act normally, Akihito offers a hand-shake, only to be rebuffed by a cold, almost hostile hiss. “Nice to meet you, Takaba-san.” _What the hell was that?_ Before Akihito can read the expression on the model’s face, Fujimoto turns his back on his new acquaintances “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for the show.” “Um, Fujimoto-san…” Mogami’s reluctant whisper makes the gorgeous man halt. “Yes?” “Well, since you are here, would you be willing to…um…answer some questions?” The model turns again to face the small woman. “I know that you have a lot of fans among the readers of my column. I wonder if you could perhaps satisfy their curiosity by answering a question or two about several recent rumors…” A smirk appears on the tall man’s well-shaped lips, a smirk painfully familiar to the eyes of the blond photographer. “Certainly, Mogami-chan. But I only have a few minutes.”

 

If eyes could devour, Fujimoto would have been consumed instantly by Mogami’s obsessive gaze. The journalist changes the page on her notebook, clicks her pen open, and smiles. “Thank you very much, Fujimoto-san! Takaba, make sure you get pictures of this, OK?” She gives the young man a couple of minutes to reassemble his camera, then addresses the model with excitement: “I’ll get right to the point, Fujimoto-san: you have been sighted lately on multiple occasions with the famous businessman Asami Ryuuichi.” _Oh no. I don’t wonna hear this…_ Takaba hides behind his viewfinder, as he tries to calm his racing heart. “Yes, indeed,” the model responds with a soft, seductive voice, “he is my lover.” Akihito's mind yells in rage. _Lie. It’s a lie._ “We started dating a few weeks ago and we are very much in love.” The blond twitches, feeling his stomach turn at the sound of those words. “But, Fujimoto-san,” Mogami interrupts “some suspect that Asami-san is involved in the underworld. How do you feel about these rumors?” Taking a deep breath, the model looks straight into his interviewer’s eyes. “As a principle, we don’t talk about our work when we are together. We have better things to do” the model’s playful wink makes Mogami blush and Akihito gasp. “But, I can assure you that my lover is a very caring man. I can’t picture him doing shady business; I think that’s just foul talk from those who envy his great talent and success.” A brief pause, then a piercing gaze straight at the camera that hides Akihito’s breathless pain. “I have great respect for that man. I want to be by his side for ever.” The slender photographer shivers _He knows about me…_ “Frankly, I love him so much, that I would stand by his side, even if he _were_ a criminal.”

Takaba keeps pushing the small black button, knowing that his trembling hands have already destroyed the shots. Anything to keep his jealous expression away from that model’s eyes. _Do you really love him, Ren? Are you telling me you’re better for him?_ His heart is tight up in an unbearable knot and tiny drops of sweat are making their way slowly from his temples to his neck. A few agonizing moments later, the sapphire gaze moves away from the viewfinder and meets the short woman’s teary eyes. “Oh, that was lovely, Fujimoto-san. I wish you all the happiness in the world.” Takaba wishes the woman would just shut up. _Go to hell, Fujimoto. You are a lie. He **said** you’re just a lie. _ “Thank you, Mogami-chan. May I go meet my stylist now?” When the journalist bows in gratitude, the beauty showers her with another angelic smile and gracefully walks away. Behind his dumbfounded colleague, Takaba grits his teeth as clouds of doubt gather in his mind. “Mogami-chan?” The young blond pretends to tidy up his camera bag to avoid the eyes of his partner. “May I leave without you? I need to hurry to someplace.” “Sure, Takaba-san. Thank you for your hard work.”

 

Akihito dashes out of Shangan Hotel gasping for air. Hot tears run down his pale cheeks as the pain in his heart grows stronger. _Did you lie to me, Asami?_ He walks fast to his car, his gaze fixed on the dirty pavement. _No, you didn’t. You wouldn’t._ Reaching for his car keys, opens the door and tosses his camera bag on the passenger’s seat. _Would you?_ Left hand wipes off his tears, right hand turns the engine on. _You said you want me by your side. You want me to trust you, right?_ Hands and feet move automatically, while the mind spins its web of dark thoughts. _But…can I really stand by you?_ As he takes a left turn on the road that leads to Club Sion, Fujimoto’s words echo in his head. _“Frankly, I love him so much, that I would stand by his side, even if he were a criminal.” Yes, a true lover respects his beloved and supports him without a second thought._ Pulling over outside the fancy club, the blond turns off the engine, but stays still on his seat. _Will I ever be like that? I desire your body. I love your caring side. I have come to like your possessiveness and accept your violence._ _But, the truth is, I still reject parts of you, Asami._ _Parts that I find hurtful and hateful._ Akihito bends towards the steering wheel and looks up at the large central window of Asami’s office, seeking in vain a comforting glimpse of his lover’s large, flawless figure. _No matter how much I joke about how terrible you are, I can't pretend for ever that it's a trivial problem._ A deep sigh wells up from the bottom of his heart. _Will I ever accept you unconditionally? Can I be your true partner in life, Asami, knowing that you do what you do?_ New tears cloud his vision, bursting out with loud sobs. _Shit._ His fingers reach for the keys, and the engine comes into life.

 ****

In the spacious office of the second floor, two golden orbs examine carefully a series of documents behind clouds of smoke. Suddenly, a loud ringing cuts through the deadly silence. “What is it, Akira?” “Asami-sama, Takaba-san showed up a minute ago.” The man turns towards the window and looks down at the road. “Bring him to the office immediately.” “I’m afraid he left only seconds after he pulled over, Sir. And…” A frown now taints the perfect face of the mature man. “And?” “I think he was crying, Sir.” The yakuza cuts off the connection and surrenders to his worried thoughts. _What’s wrong, Akihito?_ _Why do you hesitate?_

 


	13. Chapter 13

Warning: Strong language, hints of violence  
Disclaimer: I do not own Viewfinder.  
 

When Shangan Hotel’s Golden Ballroom explodes with wild applause and loud cries of approbation, a deep sigh of relief escapes the wide chest of the yakuza. As much as he loves expensive cloths and signature accessories, he can’t stand the boredom of the runaway or, in fact, the poor taste of untalented designers, such as Mijaki-sensei. _Focus, Ryuuichi. This is not meant to be fun. It’s just business._ As the tail of the models’ final parade disappears behind the purple velvet drapes, the applause gives way to lively chats and soft laughters. Slowly, the excited crowd makes its way out of the Ballroom and up the stairs to the second floor, where the reception is about to begin. Standing up from his golden seat, Asami stretches discreetly and straightens his jacket. He takes out of the right pocket his cell phone and stares at the dark screen. No calls, no messages. _Shit. Just **call** me, Akihito.  _He brushes gently the phone with his thump. _I can’t stand the wait..._ He snaps it open and pushes a couple of buttons. A familiar voice greets him on the other end “Yes, Asami-sama?” “Report.” “He is still in his apartment, Sir. He has been here since 4 pm. No visits.” “Good. Anything unusual?” A brief moment of hesitation. “Well, Sir...” “Yes?” “He’s in there but all the lights are off. The apartment has been dark ever since sunset... I don’t know, maybe he’s sleeping...” A frown digs into the yakuza’s face. “Thanks, Akira. Keep watching him. But make sure he doesn’t see you. And notify me immediately if anything happens. Clear?” “Yes, Sir.” As the connection dies, the large man strangles the small, cold machine in his palm, wishing it would scream back the answers to his questions.

 

“Penny for your thoughts, love.” Startled by the voice, the yakuza turns around to face the man who seems to have appeared out of nowhere. “Hello, Ren.” his sharp greeting barely concealing his annoyance. “Sorry I startled you.” Beaming with his best smile, the model walks slowly towards the mature man, gently pushing a long, black lock away from his shapely face. His flawless, white suit embraces tightly his slender body and his sapphire shirt reflects perfectly the color of his almond-shaped eyes. Putting his arms around Asami’s waist, he presses his body lightly upon his “Did you enjoy the show? Was I good?” Noticing the crowd coming out of the backstage door, the yakuza manages to control his temper. “I wasn’t paying any attention.” he growls. Putting the phone back into his pocket, Asami places one arm around the model and bends to whisper softly into his ear “Time for _our_ show, Fujimoto. Let's head upstairs.” A seductive glow burns in the younger man’s eyes “Yes, honey.”

 

Walking side by side on the thick black carpet, the two picture-perfect men head towards the exit. “Ren! Wait up!” Still clinging to the yakuza, Fujimoto turns around to the bald man striding briskly from the backstage door towards them. “Mijaki-sensei! Heading to the reception?” “Yes, indeed. I need some champagne!” The model responds with a soft laughter. “That’s right! Time to celebrate your success, sensei!” As the designer’s gaze falls with curiosity on Asami’s back, Ren takes the initiative. “Oh, you haven’t met, have you? Please, let me introduce you.” Silently cursing his luck, the yakuza finally turns around to face the designer. “Darling, this is Mijaki-sensei. Sensei, this is Asami Ryuuichi.” Extending his hand for a handshake, the larger man offers a kind smile and a lie “Nice to meet you, sensei. I find your work very interesting. Thank you for the great show.” The bald man swells with pride. “Thank you so much, Asami-san.” He squeezes the man’s hand with a stupid grin “It is a pleasure to finally meet the man who captured Ren’s heart. When I heart him talking about you to that journalist this morning, I got so curious! Well, now I can see why he is so enthralled with you, my friend!” Absorbed by his monologue, the designer barely notices the twitch on Asami’s face. “Oh? He was talking about me?” Two golden orbs blazing with anger nail Fujimoto’s sapphire gaze, almost surprised at its confidence. “Yes, yes,” the bald man continues his babbling as if drunk already, “Ren accidentally came in when I was giving an interview to the Tokyo Daily. The journalist turned out to be a huge fan of his...she even squealed when she saw him!” A brief, annoying giggle. “Anyway, she asked about your relationship and Ren responded with a shockingly profound love confession! I’ve never seen him like that.” _A public love confession?_ The yakuza grits his teeth to stop the angry growl from bursting out. “Well, I guess you’ll read it in the paper tomorrow, Asami-san. And I bet they’ll have a photo of Ren’s love-struck face. That blond eye-candy who came with that woman wouldn’t take his camera away from Ren!”

 

Asami holds his breath. _A blond photographer from the Tokyo Daily?_ The knot in his heart tightens with uncontrollable rage. He grabs the young model by the arm and darts out of the room. “Oh, what a passionate man! Lucky you, Ren!” _Fuck off, stupid old man!_ Spotting the restroom with predatory speed, Asami barges in, throwing the model’s slender body hard against the wall. The man collapses on the floor, now trembling at the sight of the large, muscular body looming over him, seething with wrath. “You broke our agreement, Ren.” The yakuza hisses like a snake ready to bite “You were hired to stand by me in public. No more, no less. And I explicitly stressed that you should keep your mouth **shut**. Didn’t I?” The sapphire lakes are now shedding hot tears behind long black curtains. “ **Didn’t I?** ” The model jerks at the man’s demanding yell, then nods with a sob. The yakuza takes a couple of deep breaths, then grabs the man’s chin, forcing his teary gaze to meet his own. “Was it Takaba?” When the younger man closes his eyes in a desperate attempt to avoid the question, Asami clenches the chin harder, threatening to break the fragile bones. “Answer the question!” “ **YES**.” the model cries out in pain, letting out his loud sobs. “Yes, it was.” _Shit. No wonder he’s depressed!_ “Damn you, Fujimoto! **Damn you**! Why?” The large man releases the delicate chin with a violent thrust and turns away from the weeping model, one hand cupping his face, the other reaching for his phone.  “Because I’m in love with you...I love you. More than _he_ will ever love you...” The faint words irritate the yakuza to the point of blind murder. Clinging to the few remaining rags of self-control Asami heads to the door. “Fujimoto Ren, you are fired.” Tense fingers and scorching eyes fixed on the knob. “And if you talk about me or Takaba ever again to _anyone_ , you’re dead.”

 

“Asami-sama?” “Where is he?” As Asami walks out of Shangan Hotel and into his limo, Akira’s tranquil voice brings to his racing heart a wave of relief. “Still in his dark apartment, Sir. No changes.” It doesn’t take long for the bodyguard’s impeccable instinct to pick up the signs. “Is everything alright, Sir?” “Yes, Akira.” Asami lets out an imperceptible sigh. “I’ll be over there in a few minutes.” Tossing the phone on the leather seat, the yakuza closes his eyes and crosses his arms against his chest, silently wishing he could feel Akihito’s comforting warmth against his body right now. _Please believe in me, Akihito. Don’t reject me._ As the limo turns on the familiar street, the man tries desperately to pull himself together. _Oh gods._ _What a mess._

 


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own Viewfinder

One last streak of smoke makes its vehement escape from the man’s lips, then crashes on the cold, grey door and dispels into the chilly night breeze. The cigarette falls on the floor and dies with a sigh. The large figure stands still, staring at the key clenched in his sweaty palm. Slowly, he raises his fist and knocks on the metal surface softly. The wind responds with a whistle through the corridor’s iron railings, sending a shiver down Asami’s spine. The second knock comes louder, more urgent and demanding. “Akihito?” Silence. “I know you’re in there, Akihito. Open the door.” _Are you alright?_ The tormenting knot in his stomach is throbbing with agony. _Are you still crying?_ _Have you hurt yourself?_ His heart is about to burst, his reason threatened by paranoia. _Is somebody there with you? Have you run away?_ The third knock is a blow that shakes the door from its hinges. The man is panting heavily against the metal, squeezing the key in his fist, gasping desperately for self-control. “Let me in, Akihito!” _Please._

“Asami?” The weak voice from the other side of the door sends waves of relief to the tense muscles of the large body. “Akihito.” His voice as composed as he can possibly fake it. “Are you alright?” A brief moment of silence “Yes.” _Was that a sob?_ “I heard what happened with Ren today.” He licks his lips. “He was lying, Akihito.” More sobs escape through the metal barrier. “You must believe me.” Standing in the chilly darkness, the yakuza hears nothing but his lover’s muffled whimpers. The key itches in his palm. _No, not this time..._ Resting his forehead on the cold door, he takes a deep breath. “Please.”

“I...I believe you, Asami.” When the words sink in, the man jerks with surprise. His heart leaps for a brief happy moment, then sinks in a new surge of concern. _What’s wrong then?_ “I am glad to hear it, Akihito. Very glad, in fact. May I come in now?” The door trembles slightly. Asami can feel the weight of his lover pressing against the barrier. As the sobs become louder, he caresses the cold surface with his hand. _Talk to me, dammit!_

“No. Go back to him.”

“What?” Shock quickly gives way to confusion and irritation. “What are you talking about, Akihito? There is nothing betwe-”

“He **loves** you, Asami.” Akihito’s scream resounds with his pain. “He **accepts** you. You should be together.”

“What’s this nonsense? Open the door, Akihito.” The older man feels his patience slipping away like sand through a sieve.

“He’s the one for you, Asami. Not me.”

“Have you lost your mind over some empty words, brat?” Drowning in the flood of his emotions, the yakuza bangs his strong fist on the metal door. “Open the damn door or I’ll--”  
   
A swift click on the lock and the door flies wide open. Taking a small step back in surprise Asami stares at the slender shadow trembling in front of him. “They were not just empty words, bastard!” Through the darkness, two golden eyes search for Akihito’s face, caressing the shimmering traces of his tears, his swollen lips, his burning eyes. _I can’t miss this chance_. “Oh?” Striving to keep himself composed, the yakuza takes a large step into the apartment as casually as possible and closes the door behind him. “They weren’t?”

For a few heartbeats, the two men stand still in the dark room, their bodies painfully close but not touching. _Damn. Say something!_ Suffocating in this awkward silence, Asami reaches for the switch. Akihito squirms at the flood of light. He rubs his eyes slowly, then he picks up something from the floor and hands it over to the man. “Look at him, Asami.” The elder man scowls at the sight of the photograph lying in his hands, crumbled and wet, doubtlessly from his lover’s tears. “It’s a good angle. Good job. Now what does this have to do with us?” “He is glowing.” Akihito’s eyes still fixed on the floor. “Well, he’s a model. He’s paid to look good.” “No, that’s not it.” The young man lifts his head only for a second, then buries his gaze back into the floor. “He’s glowing because he’s talking about...the person he admires and loves.” The blond blushes, feeling the persistent golden gaze on him. Taking a deep breath, he musters all his courage and turns his eyes onto the other man. “He loves you Asami. Unconditionally. He accepts all of you. He said that he would stand by your side, even if you were a criminal. I...” He swallows hard. “I can’t say that.” As new tears attack his eyes, the young man covers his face with his hands. “I can’t.”


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own Viewfinder  
Warning: OOC-ness, smex, angst

“Good.”

 Asami's response snaps Akihito out of his lament. “Wha- What?” When his gaze seeks the man’s eyes for answers, all he can see is stern, solid, unwavering seriousness. “There’s no such thing as unconditional love, Akihito. It’s a fantasy for the clueless and the obsessive.” Holding his breath, the blond watches as the yakuza slowly tears the photograph in pieces. “I am not interested in anyone who promises me illusions.” The slender body shivers at the sight of Ren’s beauty now lying lacerated on the floor.

Sighing softly, Asami cups his lover’s warm, wet cheek with one palm, feeling the soft muscles twitch as the blond flinches in surprise. “Akihito, I have no such expectations of you.” His thumb brushes away a tear, caressing with his gaze the man’s puzzled expression. “I don’t need you to support me in my career. I don’t even _want_ you to. In fact, I’ll do anything to keep you as far away from it as possible. Safe in your ignorance. Dazzling in your undefiled virtue.”

“Are you making fun of me, Asami? This is serious!” The flame of indignation in the young man’s eyes scorches Asami’s soul with its seductive heat. Unable to control himself any longer, the yakuza pins the man against the cold wall with his body, pressing his half-hard erection against the quivering flesh. As the intoxicating scent of Asami’s body invades Akihito’s senses, all thoughts of resistance die out in an instance. “Yes, this is very serious, Akihito. So listen carefully.” Clearly aroused, the blond whimpers at the warmth of the whisper against his ear. “I have no intention to involve you in my dirty business but I also don’t intend to quit. I like the power, the money, and the thrill. Besides, at this point, if I stood down, I would end up dead. And perhaps so would you.” Underneath him, the fragile body shivers again. Feeling his cock throb with desire, Asami wraps his left arm around his lover’s waist, while gently forcing him to meet his eyes with his right palm. “So I guess the question is: what weighs more for you, Akihito? Can you tolerate what you can’t accept for the sake of what you like? Can you put up sharing your life with someone like me? Willingly?” He senses his lover’s erection twitching against his own, his heart beating frantically against his chest, his eyes burning with conflicted emotions. “Or do you find me disgusting after all?” He runs a finger across the lips he is dying to kiss. “Do you hate me for my darkness, Akihito?”

Two hands grab him by the collar and drag him down into a deep, long, passionate kiss. The two bodies intertwine in a tight embrace, devouring each other ruthlessly, rubbing against each other in a crazed dance, singing in unison with gasps and pants and moans. “That’s right...mmm...bastard...I...hate y- mmm...” Before long, Akihito’s sweater is torn away from his burning skin and Asami’s coat falls heavy on the floor over the shreds of the picture. A finger loosens seductively the tie around the tall man’s neck as his tongue is being sucked with hunger. With one strong strike Akihito bears Asami’s chest of his shirt, making the man growl in his frantic arousal. In a split second, the yakuza loses his shoes and swipes his lover off his feet. Floating in that firm grip all the way to the bedroom, Akihito buries his face in the wide musty chest, nibbling on the strong muscles, licking the lines of the perfect collarbone.

 The bed creaks under the weight of the two men. Stripped of all cloths and reason now, the two bodies gleam under the gentle caress of the moonlight, striving to become one in their frenzied love-making. Lips locked on lips and eyes on eyes, the two lovers consume each other greedily, tasting what was forbidden for six whole months. Through the haze of his passion, Asami watches his lover unfold in his embrace, naturally, willingly, lovingly. “A- Asami...hurry pl- mmm...” The slender body arcs with a shiver inside the man’s strong grip, as he invades it with his tongue and his cock eager to fill it with pleasure. Screams of pain and desire pour out of the small, hot mouth straight into Asami’s breath. As their connected bodies move faster and faster, nails dig deep into flesh, carving a contract of possession signed with blood. Before long, the blinding wave of orgasm takes over their entire existence, making them both shudder violently in perfect sync, crying out each other’s name with eyes closed, lost in sacred ecstasy.

Tired and content, they lay panting softly in their tight embrace, eyes shut, bodies still connected. Callous fingers stroke lazily the messy blond hair, slender ones wipe the sweat and blood running down the muscular shoulder. “Asami?” the soft voice echoes sexier than ever in the elder man’s ears. “Mmm?” The blond licks his swollen lips. _I love you_. “Nothing.” Asami takes a deep breath and lifts his head, seeking with his golden gaze the eyes of his lover. He brushes the wet mouth with his thumb, then gives it a gentle kiss. Breathless at the sight, Akihito observes every detail on the man’s flawless face: his soft smile, his dangling locks, his tame eyes. _You are so beautiful, Asami._ “Akihito?” “Mmm?” “I am Asami to the rest of the world. But to my lover, I want to be Ryuuichi.” Feeling his cheeks hot with a blush, Akihito hides his face under the man’s shoulder. “Baka, Asa-...” The man’s gentle laughter makes his heart skip a beat. With a sigh, the blond surrenders himself in the fragrant, tightening embrace. “Baka, Ryuuichi. I love you, bastard.”


End file.
